


Poison

by Stormchild



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1344814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormchild/pseuds/Stormchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’re poison," Scott whispered.</p><p>A hand ran through his hair and settled on the back of his neck. Pietro pulled him down into a kiss. It was sweet but laced with something dark.</p><p>"You’re the one who keeps coming back."</p><p>Multi-chaptered Scott/Pietro thing. Set in S2 Evo. Chapters range from T-E.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

Peer tutor Evan's gym class,' Jean said. 'It'll be fun,' she said. 

It wasn’t horrible, exactly. But it definitely wasn’t fun. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Pietro fucking Maximoff weren’t in it. For an hour every day, he had to look at that face with expressions that would range between arrogant smugness and cold fury. More than once a class, Scott wondered if the speedster was out for blood.

"We’re doing soccer today," Coach shouted. "Everyone outside."

Scott followed, tuning out the grumbles of people who hated soccer. While he’d never been bad at sports, Scott preferred watching. Less likely to cause injuries.

"All right, you’re picking your own teams today. Bradford, Murdoch. You’re captains."

The class was barely lined up when Bradford called Pietro’s name. It obviously wasn’t because they were friends, if the twist of Pietro’s lips was any indication. But maybe he was good, Scott wasn’t sure. A few rounds later, and Murdoch picked out Evan. The grin that was maybe more of a sneer that Pietro shot in Evan’s direction made Scott shiver.

"Oh boy…"

"Something the matter, Coach?"

"You ever seen Maximoff and Daniels on opposite sides? They get a little intense."

Scott didn’t say anything. Of course he’d seen them on opposite sides. Pietro’s cold taunting, Evan’s burning anger. But this was a different scenario entirely. It couldn’t be so bad.

"Everyone’s got a team? Good. Now, Maximoff! Daniels! Anyone has to be sent to the nurse and you’ve both got detention. Got it?"

Scott didn’t really understand the warning at first. But two goals in, he started to notice the blind disregard Pietro had for anyone else on the field. Another goal, and it was like there was no-one else on the field but Pietro and Evan. Even their teammates started standing off to the side.

It was anarchy.

Evan wasn’t bad. But Pietro… Pietro was good. His lithe body moved in ways that had Scott feeling warm. The quick shifts, twists that shouldn’t be physically possible. But then, his body was his mutation. It had just never occurred to Scott that there was more to it than speed.

Three quarters through the period, and Scott thought Coach’s worry about injury was an exaggeration. Everyone else was fine. Maybe a little bored, but fine. Except, like everything else, it happened quickly.

Pietro hit an uneven patch of ground. Scott didn’t even notice him fall until he heard the cry of pain. It was a good thirty seconds before Pietro stood, Evan pushing away anyone crowding too close.

"I’m fine."

The guy next to Scott turned around and threw up in disagreement.

"Maximoff, your arm is out of the damn socket. How did you- I’ve never seen a shoulder dislocated so badly, go see the nurse right now. Summers, you take him."

"I said I’m fine!"

And there must have been something on Scott’s glasses. It was the only explanation. Because there was absolutely no way Pietro actually just grabbed his shoulder and wrenched it back into place like it was nothing. There was a pained sound that Scott wasn’t even completely sure he hadn’t just imagined.

"Maximoff! Greenberg, if you’re going to keep being sick at least have the decency to find a trash can. Maximoff, get your ass to the nurse’s.

"I’m fine, though. See?"

The speedster rolled his shoulder and moved his arm around to display a full range of motion. He didn’t wait for approval before taking off after the ball while Evan stood by, concerned expression quickly becoming quite annoyed.

"That kid," Coach muttered, shaking his head. "Gotta’ wonder what could make a guy like that."

Scott realized he had no idea how much Pietro could take. The speedster had taken some pretty bad hits, always walked around the next day looking absolutely flawless. Skin looking unmarred and smooth and soft. The Brotherhood was all fairly messed up in their own ways. But he didn’t think even Lance could relocate his own shoulder and then use that same arm to support himself when he got too low to the ground, swinging his leg around to take the soccer ball right out from Evan’s feet.

Coach blew his whistle before Evan could get too angry about the obvious display of Pietro’s powers - or maybe he was just that good. Honestly, Scott couldn’t say.

"He cheated. You saw that, right? He can’t not cheat for a minute to save his life!" Evan ranted.

"I know. Hurry up or you’re going to be late for class. And don’t forget we have a team meeting after school so don’t take forever getting home."

Evan let out a long, exaggerated groan as he made his way back inside to take a shower. When Scott looked back, Pietro was already gone.


	2. 2.

The only thing more annoying than having to be in Pietro’s gym class was being in his study period. Not that they ever talked. But just seeing him from the corner of his eyes, licking his lips and stretching in the most obscene ways, was enough to grate on Scott’s nerves.

But there was a suspicious lack of speedster today. Scott wondered if he actually had gone to the nurse to get his shoulder looked at, but dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

The teacher glanced up from her attendance sheet with a long sight.

"Does anyone know where Pietro is?"

"I think he got hurt in gym last period," someone said. "Dunno where he is, though."

Jean glanced over at Scott. He made a motion indicating he would tell her later.

"I’ll- go look for him."

The teacher shrugged, and Scott got up and left. He didn’t know why he wanted to find the speedster. Why he cared. He didn’t. But really, that dislocation did look bad.

Scott’s first stop was the nurse’s office. No-one had seen him, which wasn’t much of a surprise. A quick trip around the school found Scott in the men’s locker room. It seemed a likely place as any to find the speedster, if he was still on the grounds at all.

At first, Scott thought it was empty. He didn’t see anyone here. But he passed by the stalls and heard someone retching a little violently. It didn’t take more than a gasped, ‘fuck’ for Scott to place the voice.

”- Pietro?”

There was a long pause. Scott thought Pietro was waiting for him to leave. He heard more retching, worse than the first time.

"Fuck off."

"I’m- supposed to bring you back to class."

"A little preoccupied here."

Scott should have taken it as his queue to leave. Tell the teacher he was sick. Leave it at that. But instead he sat on the bench and shot a quick text to Jean.

When Pietro emerged on shaky legs and more pale than should have been possible, Scott got to his feet. He pretended the grimace was from the taste in his mouth.

"Do you need a hand?"

Blue eyes rolled.

"Don’t you have a class?"

"You do, too."

"Yeah, but you actually care about it."

Pietro rinsed his mouth out before leaning against the wall. He was so goddamn pale, trembling on muscular legs. Scott hesitated for a long few seconds before wrapping an arm across his lower back for support. Pietro leaned away, only slightly.

"I think you’re in shock."

"Wow," Pietro said. "No wonder Xavier keeps you around. I thought it was because he likes the way your ass looks in spandex, but it’s obviously for your keen observation skills."

Scott didn’t know which part to be annoyed about first. How did anyone tolerate this guy? But then Pietro’s body shuddered, and Scott had to hold him up. Carefully, he guided Pietro back over to the bench. He really was not sure how to deal with this, but he couldn’t very well leave him here. Not with his skin so thin and pale, his collar bones threatened to tear through.

"Look, you need medical attention."

"Oh, shut up. Don’t pretend you give a fuck. Go back to class. I can take care of myself. This is not the worst injury I’ve had. I will handle it."

Scott didn’t leave, though. He definitely should have. This asshole. This asshole was driving him insane, he was just trying to help. But he couldn’t help think, ‘What made you this way?’ Mutant or not, not everyone could just relocate a shoulder that easily. Scott figured he’d done it before. Repeatedly.

"Why are you being like this? Acting like you’re unbreakable."

"Healing factor."

"I didn’t ask- Why did you do that out there? Just to show up Evan?"

Pietro glanced up at him. There was something cold in his eyes. It was always there, behind everything else. But there was nothing else now. Cold ice that felt like frostbite on Scott’s skin.

"Not everything is about Evan. You think I can just lie down every time I get hurt?"

"It was just a soccer game."

"Listen, Summers. It’s easy for you. You get everything you want just handed to you. I have to work for it. And that means being the best at everything."

Scott was really not sure how to respond. Of course, Scott was a perfectionist in his own right. A pretty bad one, too. Maybe a little obsessive about it at times. But never to this extent.

Pietro stood, a little abruptly. Scott reached out, ready to grab him in case he lost his balance.

"I’m going home. Tell Evans what you want, I don’t care."

Before Scott could get another word out, Pietro was gone. And Scott definitely was not going to think about him anymore.


	3. 3.

Pietro, Scott decided, was the most infuriating person on the planet. He didn’t want to be lying awake at 3… 4 in the morning, trying to figure out how something so fucking pretty could be so…

Sharp.

Cold.

Dangerous.

Scott didn’t know how he missed it. Of course he knew Pietro was a problem. Anyone at that speed would be. But compared to Lance and Fred and Lance, Scott didn’t see Pietro as a priority. He’d never considered what Pietro could really do.

Pietro was the son of their biggest enemy. A man who could bring Wolverine to his knees with a flick of his wrist. It was funny, really. Scott didn’t see much of the super mutant when looking at Pietro - was Pietro that evolved, too? Was that why Cerebro couldn’t find him? What had Magneto done to him? Sure, their features were the same. Same sharp bones, same bright blue eyes, same shock of white hair that was so much more out of place on Pietro.

But Pietro was more expressive. When he laughed, his lips spread across his whole face and his eyes glittered. When he was annoyed, his nose wrinkled and his lips twisted, brows furrowing. When he was interested in what he was doing, in what was going on, his lips parted and his eyes softened. Not that Scott noticed.

Except when Pietro got angry, he was the spitting image of his father. Blue eyes went colder than liquid nitrogen. Nostrils flared. Lips pulled back over perfect teeth. It had never bothered Scott before. But after seeing Magneto? It was terrifying.

If this was what Scott saw, he could only imagine what Pietro saw when he looked in a mirror.

Scott rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the pillow over his head. It wasn’t even late enough to hit the danger room. But he needed to do something. He wasn’t going to get any sleep.

No-one stopped him from leaving. Even Wolverine was asleep. He didn’t know where he was going, only that the wind felt nice in his hair. It was a nice change, not having any destination. Mindlessly driving around. The crisp air was doing wonders to clear his head. He didn’t even think about the speedster and his slim hips that made his body positively effeminate and so goddamn gorgeous.

Scott felt dull tremors rolling through the ground. A low groan fell from his lips at the realization that he was wandering close to the Brotherhood house. And the tremors were definitely not a good sign.

Closing in on the house, he could hear the shouting all the way from the street. He could hear Lance and Pietro and Fred screaming at each other. Lance’s voice was loud, overpowering the other two be sheer volume. Pietro’s was higher, punctuated by something that maybe sounded German and definitely sounded like profanities. Fred didn’t shout so much, letting out shouts of anger and frustrated.

(Scott didn’t want to say it but he didn’t think Fred was smart enough to keep up in an argument with Pietro.)

But obviously Fred had other ways of dealing with the speedster. Scott heard a high scream before Pietro was thrown through the window.

Before Scott could offer help, Pietro pushed himself up to his feet with that cold rage that had Scott recoiling back against his car. Long fingers pulled glass shards from pale skin.

"You absolute arschloch! I just made these clothes! And now we have to fix that window! It’ssupposedtogetcold!"

Pietro ran back inside, slamming the door behind him and screaming at Fred in a blur of sound Scott couldn’t make out.

Scott glanced around. Obviously they had this under control. Now was a good time to leave. But he and Todd made eye contact and it was too late to slip away unnoticed now.

"Uh, there’s someone at the door, yo."

The door swung open. Blood was dripping from Lance’s nose. He was snarling, and blood smeared across his upper lip and teeth.

"WHAT?"

Scott did not flinch.

"I-

Abort, abort, abort!

”- want to talk to Pietro.”

Oh this was a bad idea. He should not have come here.

Lance’s expression twisted into something between confusion and disgust.

"Hey, Maximoff. Your boyfriend’s here."

"Evan, or the guy from the rugby team? Or the guy from English class?"

Pietro darted around Lance. There were cuts on his face and in his shirt. Blood seeped through the fabric, but it didn’t look like he was bleeding anymore. Not much, at least.

"Oh. You’re not on the rugby team. What do you want?"

It was a good question, and Scott definitely did not have a good answer. There were a lot of things he didn’t want. He didn’t want to bandage the cuts marring Pietro’s skin. He didn’t want to trace his fingers over Pietro’s sharp jaw and cheekbones. He didn’t want to bury his hands in those pale locks and kiss that pink mouth.

"Well? You’re wasting my time."

His foot tapped on the pavement in quick rhythmic succession.

”- How’s your shoulder?”

"You did not come all the way over here to ask about my shoulder."

"You looked pretty hurt."

Pietro raised an eyebrow. Scott noticed some of the smaller cuts were already scabbed over as if they’d happened hours ago instead of minutes.

"You’re an idiot. Go home and jack off. I’m busy."

Even if Scott’s voice wasn’t caught in his throat, he couldn’t answer. Pietro had already ducked back inside. The door barely hung onto its hinges.

Scott moved back to his car, but not before noticing Lance glaring daggers at him through the broken window.

No-one was up by the time he got back to the mansion. Slipping back into his room, he felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. He fell onto his bed. Falling asleep was much easier this time. Especially when his dreams were absolutely not filled with images of tracing Pietro’s skeleton with his lips. Definitely not.


	4. 4.

"What- do you know about Pietro Maximoff."

"What?’

"I mean, you two grew up together. You were best friends."

"Yeah, until he stole from me. He’s a liar, Scott. That’s all there is to know about him."

There was a long pause.

"Why do you c-"

"What made him that w-"

"Sorry, what?"

"No, you go first."

Another pause.

"Look, Scott. Don’t get messed up with him. He’s good at acting innocent but he’s not. Don’t forget that, okay."

"I know. I just… have to wonder what could make someone like that."

Evan shrugged.

"I dunno, man. All I know is he’s a bad person."

Scott agreed. There was nothing good in Pietro. He was a terrible person, with no redeemable qualities.

But all it took was one glimpse of Pietro in the locker room, naked after a shower and bent over to pick his shirt from the floor, for Scott to completely forget why he hated him.

Strong legs seemed to go on forever, firm, compact muscle flexing taut beneath smooth skin. Pietro had shaved his legs. Scott hadn’t expected that. His eyes followed the path up those legs to Pietro’s tight, round ass. And oh God it was so terrible but he could picture himself sliding his cock between those perfect cheeks. Pietro stood, and the motion made the subtle curves so much more obvious. For a moment, Scott could pretend he’s was looking at a woman’s body.

He thanked God that he’s wearing glasses so no-one could see who he was looking at.

"Ready to go, man?" Evan asked.

"Uh- yeah. Come on."

Scott tried to shake the image from his head, but it was too late. It was burned into the back of his mind. It haunted him at night, replacing the image of Jean while he stroked himself. He gasped, turning over onto his stomach and propping himself up on his knees. He thrust into his hand, murmurs of the speedster’s name spilling from his hand. Behind his eyelids, Pietro clawed at the headboard and grasped at the sheets with high whines and needy bucks of his slim hips. He came into the tissue with a muffled groan.

He felt filthy. More than in the usual way. And it was so hard not to think about it later during training. About what that body would look like sprawled beneath him, gasping and panting for him with soft lips swollen and wet.

(Scott knew Pietro’s lips were soft, he’d seen him applying lip chap more than Kitty.)

There were a few times when he’s tried approaching Pietro. He wanted to know how someone so goddamn beautiful could look so ugly, lips pulled into a horrible grimace as he slammed Evan into a wall, hard.

"You don’t know a damn thing about me, Daniels. So quit pretending you do."

Pietro dashed off, but not before shoving Scott out of his way. And Scott didn’t really care to ask what that was about. He knew those two enough to know that anything would make them fight.

Scott actually managed to go a few hours without so much as thinking about Pietro. A spare found him outside. He always did manage to get more work done in fresh air. But his regular table was filled. He didn’t think much of it until he realized:

Who it was, and  
There was nowhere else to sit.

 

Clearing his throat, Scott sucked it up and approached the table. Pietro either didn’t hear him over his music or didn’t care. Either one was likely. He cleared his throat again, and Pietro looked up with a very annoyed expression, taking one of his earphones out. If Scott didn’t know better, he’d say it was Shostakovich.

"What?"

"Can I sit here?"

"Whatever."

Scott moved to sit, catching a glimpse of Pietro’s book.

"Is that- Russian?"

"Yes, it is."

"You know Russian?"

"Doesn’t everybody?"

"No, actually. What is that, it’s the size of a dictionary."

"Anna Karenina."

"In Russian."

"Yup."

"Where did you learn Russian?"

Pietro paused his music and marked his page, setting his book down.

"My father thought it was useful. Especially since I learn languages so quickly."

Scott didn’t respond for a few moments. This was actually way more than he expected Pietro to say.

"Can I ask you a… personal question?"

"No. You got me thrown in jail, why would I tell you anything?"

"To be fair, you did frame Evan for theft first."

A bitter smile spread across Pietro’s lips.

"Desperate times."

"You did it because you were bored."

"No, I said I did it because I was bored. Are you really that stupid? God, I wouldn’t leave you in charge of a pen."

"Then why?"

For a long minute, Scott didn’t think Pietro was going to answer. Not that he expected him to. But then, he did. 

"I was hungry. Not all of us can have everything just handed over on a silver platter."

"What’s your deal? You make it sound like all of us had perfect lives. I was an orphan before the professor took me in, you know."

"How tragic. I am so sorry. You’d think I’d be more sensitive, seeing as I’m the only one in the Brotherhood with a living parent."

"Magneto."

"Magneto."

"He’s the reason you’re like this, isn’t he? Evan said your dad left when you were younger."

Scott didn’t know how to describe the look on Pietro’s face. Hurt, maybe. Angry, definitely. Betrayed. Wounded.

(Maybe there were things even he couldn’t heal from.)

"Why do you hate the professor so much? He can help you."

Pietro laughed. It was bitter and raw and it made Scott feel sick.

"Yeah, right! Xavier wouldn’t lift a finger to help me if my life depended on it."

"That isn’t true. If you made an effort, I’m sure-"

"Listen, Summers. I know Xavier better than you think. He and my father used to be very good friends. They played chess every Saturday. He is the only person who knows better than I do what kind of man my father is, and he turned away to start his precious school. He left me in my father’s hands. And now he likes to make me a villain. Xavier never saw me as anything but Magneto’s son."

Scott didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe that the professor could do something like that. There had to be a good explanation, he wouldn’t just leave a kid alone with someone like Magneto.

"He probably didn’t know how bad he was back then."

A smirk spread over Pietro’s lips. It was cold and cynical and it didn’t belong on a face so pretty.

"Oh, he knew. Did you know my powers kicked in when I was six years old?"

There was no-one within earshot. It was why Scott liked this table.

"That’s impossible, no-one’s powers have ever come out before puberty."

"Mine did. Did you ever wonder how my father became so evolved? How he designed all of that equipment he had? How he figured out just how much radiation it takes to cause a jump in the X-Gene? How he looks so much younger than he is? I mean, he was a teenager during World War Two."

Scott swallowed. His mouth and throat felt dry. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. Not with the look in Pietro’s eyes. The look of a beaten animal ready to tear apart anyone who stepped close to shreds.

Pietro leaned forward across the table. Scott could see the variations in the blues of Pietro’s eyes, the cracks in Pietro’s lips. No sign that he’d been thrown through a window only days before.

"Daddy liked to play Frankenstein when I was little. I was his little monster. How do you think I got so pretty?"

And there it was. What he didn’t want to hear. He felt sick to his stomach - and not just because he liked the way Pietro’s lips moved and the sound of his voice when he said ‘daddy’ a little too much. The almost innocent tone, despite the bloodthirsty look in his eyes like cold blue steel.

"If the professor had known-"

"Oh, he knew. He was, and I quote, ‘quite impressed with these results but disappointed with [his] methods’. Daddy refused to stop, so Uncle Charles decided he didn’t want to be friends anymore."

There it was again. Daddy. Innocent voice, innocent look. Scott could almost believe Pietro was innocent.

(He wanted to wreck that innocence. Make that pretty mouth do filthy things.)

"You’re lying."

"Me? Lie? Never. You can ask him yourself. He isn’t the saint you think he is."

"Well you aren’t exactly perfect either."

"Actually, my genetics kind of are."

For a second, Scott wanted to punch him right in the face. He wanted to break Pietro’s nose. He wanted to ruin that pretty face and make him cry. He wanted to smash that face into the dirt. He hated every cell in Pietro Maximoff’s body.

But he was better than that. He stormed off, brushing off anyone who tried to talk to him. And that night, with his fingers sliding past the waistband of his pyjama pants, he let himself indulge in the violent images and sound of Pietro calling him Daddy.


	5. 5.

"Professor, we need to talk. Now."

"Of course, Scott. Come in. What can I do for you?"

Scott shut the door behind him none too gently. Charles glanced up from his papers, a little startled.

"Is it true that Magneto… did experiments on Pietro? And that let it happen?"

Charles let out a long, drawn out sigh. This was a conversation he’d hoped never to have. He still held memories of Pietro and Wanda Maximoff as children very close to his heart. The two children had been so small, so delicate.

"It isn’t as simple as that, Scott."

"But it’s true, then. You know what was happening, and you let it happen."

"Scott. Do not speak as if you understand what was happening."

"I understand that you turned your back on someone who needed you."

Charles closed his eyes and shook his head. He had only seen Pietro once up close since he’d walked away from Magnus and his family. The bright blue eyes were so much more like his father’s. Cold and sharp. He couldn’t blame himself for the lack of warmth in them. It wasn’t on him.

"I cannot be held responsible for Magneto’s actions, Scott. There was nothing I could have done."

"You could have-"

"Could have what, Scott? Taken him away? Do you think a man like Magneto would allow that?"

Scott shook his head, more out of disbelief than agreement.

"You could have helped him when Magneto left him. He was alone for years!"

It was impossible not to feel even a little bit sympathetic when he remembered his own time spent alone, with no-one to look out for him. Being taken in by Charles had been nothing short of a miracle. This man had become his father, and Scott all but worshiped him. It was so horribly painful to imagine that he was capable of turning his back on anyone. Even someone like Pietro Maximoff.

"Pietro is Magneto’s son. He is - please do not interrupt me - strong and resilient. He always has been. If I had intervened at any point, there was no guarantee that Magneto would not react with violence."

"What about now?"

There was another long silence, filled only with a sigh from Charles. Scott wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or punch something.

"You’ve seen the kind of person Pietro is, Scott. He isn’t like the rest of the Brotherhood. Magneto’s influence is too strong in him. Pietro is cruel and remorseless. He is more like his father than you seem to believe."

"So he doesn’t deserve saving?"

"He doesn’t want to be saved, Scott. He wants to bring the world to his feet, and he will bring down anyone who gets in his way."

"Are you still talking about Pietro? Because it sounds like you’re talking about Magneto, Professor."

"This discussion is over."

Scott’s lips pulled back. He wasn’t a violent person by nature, he really wasn’t. But he’d never wanted to hit someone so bad. He’d never thought his idol could be so cold. None of this sounded like something he would do. Leave a child to be treated like a lab rat all because of his parentage? But here Charles was, admitting to it without any semblance of remorse.

"Yeah," he said, "I guess it is."

The teen stormed out of the office. The door slammed hard enough to make the hinges come loose. He shoved past the small group huddled outside the office door.

"What do you care about Maximoff, man?" Evan demanded, following after him. "He’s a shit person. You know that."

"Do you think he was always like that?"

Scott’s voice didn’t crack.

"He made his decisions! He could have gotten help if he wanted it. He could have asked me for help, man. But he didn’t. Don’t get involved with him, man. He’ll just mess you up. Trust me."

Scott shook his head, eyes squeezed shut behind ruby-quarts glasses. He felt sick. He’d gone through Magneto’s radiation treatment. Felt the hot burning tearing through his body. And he imagined what it would have been like to go through that when he was six, before he’d built up his pain tolerance. When a scrape sent him into a fit of tears. He didn’t even want to think of what else the speedster had suffered through.

"You’re the one that was friends with him for so long. Either there was a reason you stuck around him so long, or there’s something seriously wrong with your judgment."

"Scott!" Jean cried.

He could feel her pressing at his mind, trying to calm him. She’d done it a thousand times before, but it only served to make him even more angry right now.

"Your funeral, man."

"Like, what’s his issue? It’s Pietro we’re talking about."

"Shut up! Just- shut up!"

Jean shouted his name again. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear any of this. Didn’t want to hear them defend the professor, didn’t want to hear them condemn the speedster. Say he deserved it.

It took him two attempts to get his keys into the ignition. A puff of sulfur and smoke had him coughing.

"Where are you going, mein fruend?"

"None of your fucking business!"

And Scott didn’t mean to raise his glasses. Didn’t mean to aim his eyes right at Kurt. But he did, and the other mutant only just managed to bamf away in time.

"Just leave me alone!"

With hands shaking on the wheel, Scott took off out of the driveway at almost twice the speed limit. His eyes were watering and clouding his vision but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down or pull over. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The fact that he didn’t crash was nothing short of a miracle.


	6. 6.

By the time he pulled up into the cracked driveway, the tears had stopped but his breaths were coming out in short, ragged gasps as if he’d run here instead of driven. He wiped at his eyes. The heels of his hands came away damp. It took a solid two minutes of breathing through his nose, head in hands, for his breaths to even out. His lungs still ached. But he couldn’t sit in the car forever. A quick glance in the rear view mirror convinced him that with his glasses in place, the redness was covered and it was impossible to tell he’d been crying.

Scott didn’t think anyone would be able to hear him knocking over the sound of music - Metallica, from the sounds of it - coming from one of the upstairs windows. Lance’s room, he figured. But then the door was opened, hinges creaking, by a very dishevelled Lance Alvers. His hair was mused and if not for the dark hickeys on his neck, Scott would have thought he’d just woken up.

"Twice in one week? We’re flattered. Whattaya’ want, Summers?"

"I need to see Pietro."

"He’s a little-"

"Now."

Scott shoved past him, ignoring the annoyed, “Hey!” He found Pietro leaning against a wall, arms folded across his chest and eyebrow raised. He was wearing nothing but an oversized Slayer t-shirt that hung low over his hips and exposed his sharp collar bones.

It was such an arousing sight that Scott couldn’t even be angry that it was obviously Lance’s shirt.

"I need to talk to you. It’s imp- can you please put some pants on?"

As much as Scott loved those bare legs, they were making it really hard to focus when all he could think of was those long legs wrapped around his waist.

"Fine."

Pietro darted off in a blur of speed, returning barely a minute later in his own clothes. The tight jeans didn’t make his legs any less tantalizing.

"Now, what do you want?"

"Can we- talk? Somewhere private?"

Scott shot a glare to Lance, who was still leaning against the door. Pietro sighed, and nodded for Scott to follow him upstairs. It didn’t seem like anyone else was home, and Scott heard the front door open and close again. He barely heard the engine of Lance’s Jeep. He tried, unsuccessfully, to look anywhere but at Pietro’s ass.

Pietro’s room seemed like the nicest in the house. The walls and ceiling were cracked, and the window had obviously been replaced more than once. The ceiling lamp was broken. The only light was coming from the window and the few lamps set around the room, all of which were absent of lampshades. But it was clean and organized, at least, and Scott didn’t have to worry where he was stepping.

Pietro sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands. Scott stayed by the wall. He didn’t want to get too close. He didn’t know if he’d be able to resist touching him.

"Well, what do you want to talk about? It must be pretty serious for you to come here twice."

He crossed his legs and Scott wondered how a guy could be so damn effeminate. So god-fucking-damn pretty.

"I… I talked to the professor- about what you told me."

The teasing look left Pietro’s eyes. There was only ice in them.

"He- I can’t believe he would have let… but he admitted it. He-"

Scott covered his face with one hand. He felt a gust of air, and Pietro’s hand settled on his lower back. The touch was light and Scott could have believed that Pietro was actually concerned.

"C’mere. Sit down, you look like you’re going to pass out."

Scott had never hears Pietro’s voice so gentle. He sounded… human. He let himself be led to the bed. It was hard, and Scott couldn’t imagine sleeping on it every night. Long fingers moved up his back to the nape of his neck and into his hair, only briefly.

"Look at me. Close your eyes."

Pietro’s fingers traced over Scott’s face before pushing his glasses up. He felt Pietro tracing under his eyes. He wanted to pull away, push his glasses down, leave and never come back. But the touches were so light, and there was sympathy in Pietro’s voice when he spoke again.

"You’ve been crying. Because of me?"

"Because of what the professor let happen to you."

Pietro removed his hand, allowing the glasses to slip back into place. He smiled, a little sadly.

"I’ve made a lot of people cry before. But no-one’s ever cried for me."

"Don’t let it go to your head. I still hate you. But it’s…"

"Not fair. I know. The world isn’t fair."

Those fingers were back in his hair. He tried to remember all the warnings he’d been given about the speedster. That he was cruel. That he would only hurt Scott. Scott believed all of it. Every word. But Pietro’s hands were soft and effeminate. They seemed far too delicate to break anything.

Scott let out a shaky breath. Pietro was so close. Only a few inches between them. He leaned forward, hesitating when their noses brushed. It would have been so easy to close in that last bit of space but guilt knotted in his stomach. He shouldn’t have been giving in like this. He was the leader of the X-Men. He was a Good Guy. He shouldn’t be here, pining for a taste of the Bad Guy’s lips.

Luckily, Pietro made the decision for him. It was soft, a brush of lips on lips, lasting only seconds. It was not long enough and too long at the same time.

"We shouldn’t," Scott whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because- because of everything."

"Do you want this? Do you want me?"

Scott only barely manage to stifle a whimper. He gave the smallest nod he could manage. God, he was so weak. He should have been better than this.

"I want this, too. So what’s the problem?"

"You’re Brotherhood."

"So is Lance, but he’s still having sex with Kitty."

"He’s having sex with you, too," Scott pointed out.

"Jealous? It’s just sex."

"Is this-"

Scott motioned between them.

”- just sex?”

"Of course. It doesn’t ever have to happen again. I won’t tell."

"I don’t trust you."

"Nor should you. Would it really be so bad to just take what you want for once? Forget about everyone else. Just be selfish."

"I can’t. I’m not like you."

Pietro laughed and pressed another kiss to Scott’s mouth.

"How can you stand to be so good?"

"How can you stand to be so bad?"

"I’m not bad. I just found a different way to survive."

"I hate you."

"I know."

And as much as Scott hated Pietro, his lips felt so good. They were even softer than he thought they would be. That sweet mouth worked against his, and Scott couldn’t stop himself from threading a hand through white hair and tipping Pietro’s head back to get better leverage.

Their tongues ran along one another. Pietro’s mouth tasted so good. It wasn’t quite like kissing a girl. As soft and slim as Pietro was, he was definitely not a girl. His kisses were firm and a little forceful.

Pietro’s teeth scraped over Scott’s lower lip, drawing out a low moan. Deceptively strong hands slipped up his shirt.

"Pietro," Scott gasped.

He pushed Pietro back onto the bed and kicked his shoes off before climbing on top of him. Pietro’s cheeks were a darker shade of red than the rest of his skin. Scott ran his hand through Pietro’s hair. It was so much softer than he’d expected it to be.

"Take it off."

Scott didn’t have to be twice. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it off on the floor. He felt bad, making a mess of Pietro’s floor, but he couldn’t help notice Pietro’s pink tongue dart out over his lips and he really couldn’t care less.

"You like that?"

"I’ve seen worse."

"Smug bitch."

"You like it."

Pietro pulled him down into another kiss. His hands roamed over Scott’s skin, fingers trailing absently over scars and muscles. Those fingers found their way to the button on Scott’s jeans.

Scott gasped, pulling his hips away a little.

"What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before."

"Of course I have."

"Mm. Have you ever had sex with another man?"

Long fingers played over the back of his neck, roaming into his hair. Pietro arched a little. There was a teasing look on his face, almost mocking.

"I-"

"Oh, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you."

Scott’s face felt hot for an entirely different reason than before. But Pietro’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, and next thing he knew he was on his back and Pietro was on top of him with a smirk that had his jeans feeling far too tight.

Pietro was a tease. That much was obvious. His hand slid up his own shirt, just enough to show skin, before moving back down to Scott’s chest. He pressed kisses and licked a path down Scott’s pecs and abs, stopping just above the waist of his jeans.

The speedster let out a laugh. Obviously he noticed the growing bulge in his jeans. And suddenly he wondered if this was all a joke. If Pietro was going to get him hot and take off for laughs. Frankly, it wouldn’t have surprised him.

But then pretty pink lips pressed against his bulge. Scott shuddered. He could scarcely believe how hot he was getting for Pietro. Pretty mouth moved back up to the shell of his ear.

"Tell me what you want."

"I-"

"Come on, Summers. Tell me what you want."

Pietro ground his hips down against Scott’s. Scott gasped, fingers grasping at Pietro’s hips.

"I want to fuck you! Take your clothes off so I can fuck you!"

Scott flushed at his own words. This really wasn’t like him. But he couldn’t help himself. Pietro had his blood hot and he couldn’t help bucking his hips up.

Pietro complied willingly, pulling his shirt off so slowly. Scott didn’t think it was physically possible for Pietro to go so slow. His hands wandered down his chest, tracing toned muscle and subtle curves.

"You’re gorgeous," Scott breathed without really meaning to.

Pietro beamed and wriggled his hips. Vain little bitch, Scott thought.

"Keep going. I want to see how pretty the rest of you is."

And it was horrible to feed his ego this way, but Pietro slipped out of his jeans and it was so worth it. Delicate hands smoothed down his sides and legs.

Scott reached out tentatively to stroke his fingers over Pietro’s cock. It was embarrassing that he was so much harder than the speedster. But Pietro’s sharp hips were more than enough distraction.

Pietro hummed, rolling his hips up into Scott’s hand. A light flush was starting to spread over his cheeks. His lips pressed against Scott’s earlobe. Fingers played over the edge of his jeans.

"You’re wearing too much, Summers."

"So do something about it, Maximoff."

Pietro kissed and sucked his way down Scott’s chest and stomach down to his navel. By the time the button came undone, Scott was hot and hard and ten seconds away from writhing and just begging for it. He almost couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Put then his legs were bare, and that sinful mouth was working its way over his inner thighs.

Scott’s fingers tangled in Pietro’s hair. It felt so soft beneath his fingers. He shouldn’t have loved it as much as he did. He kept his hand in Pietro’s hair even as Pietro leaned up and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table drawer.

Brown eyes watched the speedster move from behind his glasses. Scott couldn’t help lick his lips. He grabbed at Pietro’s wrist, stopping him from uncapping the lube.

"Get on your back," he said, "I want to watch you finger yourself."

Pietro grinned and did as he was told. Scott sat back on his heels, giving himself a few quick strokes as Pietro poured lube onto his fingers and over his twitching hole. He gasped, arching a little.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. It’s just cold."

Long fingers rubbed over the tight pucker. Soft gasps and low moans filled the air as Pietro stretched himself open. Scott couldn’t tell if they were for his benefit or if it actually felt that good.

"Come on, Summers. What are you waiting for?"

Scott rolled the condom on, fumbling only a little. He couldn’t help it, with Pietro lying back in front of him like a present, legs spread wide and hole open for him. A hand settled on Pietro’s delicate hip while Scott guided himself into that waiting hole with the other.

It was so hot, so tight, and Scott almost couldn’t believe it. He pressed in, slowly, so as not to hurt the other but really, he should have known it was a stupid idea.

"Taking your sweet time? Hurry up all ready."

Fuck, Scott just wanted to shut him up. He wanted to gag that pretty mouth and press his face into the pillow and fuck him until he cried. He wanted to punch that cocky look off his face and hit him until he bruised. Fuck, he could picture how good his hands would look wrapped around that pretty neck.

Instead he settled for slamming his hips up, hard and fast, against Pietro’s. The speedster moaned, tossing his head back. Those impossibly long legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Quick, shallow thrusts were all he could manage. Pietro was holding him close, breaths coming out in gasps.

And Scott hated himself for it, but he whimpered into Pietro’s neck. Pietro smelled so good, it made him want to be sick. He hated this. He hated every second of this, of how good Pietro was making him feel. He hated that he couldn’t pull his hand from Pietro’s hair, when all he wanted to do was tear it all out.

The air was so thick. Scott could barely breathe. He was choking in it, drowning in the sounds of Pietro’s hitched breaths. Nails raised red marks on his skin that were going to be hard to explain away if anyone saw them.

"Getting close?" Pietro asked, voice a wrecked, sultry purr.

"Yeah… You’re tight."

Pietro’s hand slipped between their bodies. His cock was slick with precum. As much as he hated Scott, he couldn’t deny it felt good to be fucked so hard. He could feel Scott coming undone, falling apart with every thrust. It made him harder and wetter. The knowledge that Scott Summers was so hot for him. That he could melt Scott Summers’ cold reservedness.

"Cum for me, Summers. Cum for me."

Scott growled, tightening his hold on Pietro’s hair. His hips were jerking in irregular thrusts and he barely managed to pull out. He kept the head of his cock inside Pietro’s tight, hot body, fingers curled around the base of the condom.

He didn’t mean to scream Pietro’s name, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to. He really did not want to give this vain animal the satisfaction. But it spilled out before he could stop himself.

A dark sort of smirk spread across Pietro’s lips. He loved this. He loved the blush on Scott’s face, the ragged breaths, the wrecked gasps of his name. Heat built up quickly in the pit of his stomach. His fingers vibrated against the sensitive spot just under his bright red cockhead. Scott’s fingers rubbed against his balls.

"Ah! Oh, keep doing that."

It was sick, how much Scott wanted to make Pietro cum. He was so fucking pretty. Long limbs outstretched, a hot blush spreading down his neck and across his chest. Tight, pink nipples were peaked despite the heat of his body. Toes curled, leg muscles clenching as Pietro arched his back.

A loud cry was the only warning Scott got before Pietro came all over his chest and stomach. God, he was never going to forget this sight. The absolutely blissed look on Pietro’s face was almost enough to get him hard all over again.

"I- should leave," Scott said.

"Mm. All right."

"You aren’t going to ask me to stay?"

"What, you want to cuddle?"

Scott felt his face get hot.

"No-"

"Okay. I need to shower before Blob gets home and takes up all the ot water."

Pietro sped off, leaving Scott alone in his room to pull himself back together.

This was a mistake. One he had no intention of repeating.


	7. 7.

Scott hated himself. His whole body was just disgusting. He couldn’t look in the mirror without feeling sick.

If he closed his eyes too long, he could feel Pietro’s soft lips dragging across his skin. He could feel hot pants of breath on his neck. The worst was the sound of that sultry voice purring in his ear, and the feel of that hot, tight ass around his cock. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Scott had hoped that fucking Pietro’s pert ass was all he needed to get it out of his system. But no such luck. It was worse now than before. All he could think about was what he wanted to do to him next. Every fucking night, it was something different. He quickly ran out of ideas and turned to porn - oh God he was sick - for more.

And at first, it hadn’t been anything too far from what he was already picturing. That pretty mouth wrapped around Scott’s cock. Scott’s tongue licking his cum from Pietro’s ass. Pietro pressed up against a wall, legs spread and ass jutting out. But he wanted something darker, even just for his fantasies, and he found it.

It was sick. Filthy and shameful and he wanted it. He wanted to choke him, pin him down, tie him up, humiliate him. He wanted to leave marks on that fucking flawless skin. And really, he didn’t want these things with anyone else. The thought of Jean in these positions made him want to retch. But with Pietro…

The thought of that pretty mouth gagged made him so hard so fast. Lips stretched over a ball, glistening with spit pooling onto the floor. He wouldn’t be able to talk, only moan and scream. Or maybe a muzzle. It would serve that pretty bitch right, taunting Scott all the time with full lips made to be wrapped around his cock. Scott wanted to make him wear a ring gag, maybe with a harness, and shove his cock right down his throat.

(He wondered why he liked the thought of gagging Pietro so much until he heard the speedster’s sarcasm and yeah, definitely a muzzle.)

But somehow he wound up on his knees between Pietro’s legs. The speedster had a hand in his hair, so much less pushy than Scott expected him to be. There was no pressure from the long fingers and it was almost strange that Pietro was letting him lick and suck at his own pace. And there was something satisfying about the soft sighs and moans.

"Scott," Pietro murmured. "Don’t stop."

If Scott didn’t know any better, he’d swear it was more of a plea than a demand. He looked up and took in the red flush spotting across Pietro’s cheekbones. His lip was swollen from being caught between his teeth.

"You like this."

Scott licked a path up from the base of his cock up to the wet, red head. He wrapped his lips around the tip and sucked hard. The high moan was more than enough encouragement. The sounds were desperate and needy and so hot. A second hand settled on Scott’s shoulder.

Pietro’s cock was so hard. Scott could feel his pulse against his lips. There was precum on his tongue. It mixed in with saliva, connecting Scott’s mouth to Pietro’s cock when he pulled off again with a wet pop. Scott pressed a kiss to a hipbone - was it just him or did it seem sharper than last week? - and made his way up Pietro’s body. He stood at full height, leaning down over Pietro to cup his cheeks and press a long kiss against his lips.

Fingers clutched at Scott, pulling him down deeper into the kiss. It might have been sweet if it wasn’t so aggressive. Scott let himself enjoy the softness of Pietro’s lips and the taste of his mouth. There was something almost needy in the way Pietro leaned up into Scott.

Scott didn’t comment on it, silently letting Pietro pull him onto the bed and push his clothes back. He helped Pietro strip him down until they were both naked.

"Just fuck me," Pietro gasped. "I’m stretched, just fuck me."

Long fingers grabbed the lube and condom, shoving them into Scott’s hand. And Scott really didn’t question Pietro’s impatience. He was always impatient. Maybe a little more desperate, needy, than usual. But Scott didn’t care. He needed to feel that tight, hot body around his cock.

Scott pressed three lube-soaked fingers into Pietro’s ass to make sure he was loose enough. A little on the tight side, nothing they both couldn’t take. He wasted no time in rolling the condom on and spreading lube all over his cock.

"You ready for me, you little bitch?"

Pietro pulled his legs up to give better access. An eager nod and Scott was pressing in, hot and slow. He was so tight. He always was. And Scott fucking loved it. He loved the hot mewls that spilled from his lips, that poured over Scott’s skin like wine.

"Scott," he moaned, "Scott, harder. Oh, fuck, harder!"

Scott complied, grabbing Pietro’s firm thighs hard enough that he was sure it would bruise. He pressed his mouth to the speedster’s ear.

"Call me daddy."

And Scott wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. But he wanted to hear it, wanted to hear that word come past Pietro’s mouth in that sweet voice that could have been innocent if it wasn’t Pietro. He didn’t let his thrusts falter or stall with the hope that it would distract Pietro from laughing or kicking him out.

Pietro shuddered, arching back into the bed. The mattress creaked with every thrust. His fingers dug into Scott’s back.

"Daddy," he murmured. "God, daddy, that feels good!"

Scott’s cock throbbed inside him. He loved it when Pietro’s voice did that, made that hot little innocent sound. His mouth moved over Pietro’s neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave red marks in his wake.

"Filthy little boy," he growled. "Filthy little slut."

He punctuated the last word with a hard thrust, burying himself all the way inside Pietro with enough force that hehe’s pushed back a few inches.

"Yes!" Pietro gasped.

Scott grabbed Pietro’s fingers as they curled around his cock. The bright red head was soaked with precum. Pietro’s high, needy whine sent hot jolts through Scott’s body.

"Filthy boys don’t get to cum without daddy’s permission."

And Scott wondered if this was too much but Pietro moaned, ass clenching tight around him and Scott figured it was reasonable to assume that Pietro liked it. He covered his hand over Pietro’s mouth just to see what would happen. A few of his fingers slipped passed his lips.

Pietro didn’t waste time wrapping his lips around those fingers and suckling. He absolutely loved having things in his mouth. The added stimulation had his thighs quivering and the pressure mounting between his thighs. He wanted to just cum already. The need was almost painful.

Murmurs of “pretty bitch” and “filthy whore” spilled past Scott’s lips. He was getting so close. Pietro was so tight and getting tighter. But he didn’t want to cum yet. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Not when this was his only chance - his last chance, no way this way happening again - to have Pietro Maximoff wet and needy for him.

Scott pulled his hand from Pietro’s mouth and pushed it into his hair, smearing spit over his skin and silver locks. Pink lips were swollen and glistening. They looked made to be wrapped around a hard cock. He pulled out, slowly, immediately missing the tight heat. Pietro missed it too, if the whimper was any indication.

"You want to cum?" Scott demanded.

His hand wrapped around Pietro’s wet shaft.

"Yes! Ah-ahhh…"

"Beg me. Beg me to let you cum."

Scott didn’t think he would. He really didn’t.

"Please… Please, daddy, let me cum. I’ll be so good if you please let me cum!"

And Scott really couldn’t refuse. Tightening his left hand in Pietro’s hair, he stroked quickly. His palm smoothed over the slit and that was it. Pietro’s hips were jerking, abs clenching with the force of it all. A high cry echoed off the walls.

Scott didnt give Pietro much time to recover. He straddled the speedster’s chest, pushing his glasses back into place.

"I want to cum in your mouth. Open up. "

It was something of a surprise when Pietro complied rather than telling Scott to fuck off. But he didn’t want to give Pietro the opportunity to change his mind. It didn’t take much to bring himself over the edge. He’d been on the brink for ages. The sight of Pietro flushed and wrecked was too much for him to handle.

Scott watched through lidded eyes as Pietro swallowed his cum, fingers wiping up whatever had landed on his skin. He rolled off of Pietro to lay on his side and catch his breath.

"How was it."

"Mmm. You’re dirtier than I thought, Summers."

Scott felt his face heat up.

"Like you’re one to talk."

Never. Happening. Again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shows up 2 years late with pwp

Scott sat at the edge of Pietro's bed. He'd been watching the numbers on the clock climb for a solid eight minutes now and all he'd done so far was put his underwear back on. Why couldn't he just get up and leave? It was bad enough just sleeping with Pietro. But actually spending the night? He wanted to claw his own skin off.

The thin curtains did little to keep the street lights out. When Scott looked back, he could see Pietro lying on his stomach, his arms beside his head. He could even make out he bruises on his arms and back. There was a sick twist of relief in Scott's stomach that he couldn't see the ones on his face. This violence, the pleasure he got from it... It wasn't him. He wasn't this person.

He heard Pietro shift behind him. He didn't move, even as Pietro pressed up against his back and draped his arms over his shoulders. A soft cheek pressed against his. 

"You're leaving?" he mumbled, sleep thickening his voice with an accent that made Scott's mouth water. 

"I shouldn't be here."

"But you are."

Scott exhaled through his nose. He felt Pietro's bare cock brush against the small of his back. He needed to think of something to say. Anything. Anything to distract himself from how soft Pietro felt against him. How intimate the position was.

"You and Lance." It came out croaky. He paused, licked his lips. "What are you? The way you look at each other..."

If they were together, it would be easier to break it off. To remind himself that Pietro was just using him. 

As if it could be that easy. 

Pietro sighed and rested his chin on Scott's shoulder. 

"We just fuck sometimes. When he and Kitty are off and he gets all pent up and needs release. It's just sex."

Scott shivered. He tried so hard not to picture it, Lance releasing into that tight, sweet heat he had released into himself only hours ago. His blood surged with jealousy and something worse. He hated Lance. Hated how he chased after Kitty, hated how he eyed Pietro's thighs when he walked by. Hated the thought of Lance's hand in that soft hair, Lance's mouth on the pale expanse of his throat, Lance's cock fucking that tight ass like he owned it. But the mental image of it made him harden despite himself. 

Pietro's tongue traced the shell of his ear. 

"Do you want to hear about it?"

"Yes," Scott whispered, full of shame and arousal. 

"He's actually really sweet. He'll kiss and touch me everywhere. Slowly, you know, trying to tease me. He likes to suck on my nipples. Sometimes he'll bite and pinch them until they bruise, and I still feel it the next day."

Oh... There was an idea. 

"Sometimes, he'll just fuck my face. He's got a beautiful cock. When he's hard like that, I can feel him in the back of my throat. I can almost always make him cum by swallowing around him a few times. His thighs'll be shaking and he'll be holding my head and making these tiny thrusts. But he usually wants to fuck." If the breathy moan and hardening cock was any indication, he didn't mind it one bit. "If he's especially horny, he'll lick that spot behind my balls. You know that spot I like. Most of the time, he'll rub it with his thumb while he fingers me. He's always so generous with it."

"Yeah?"

Pietro hummed. 

"He always makes sure the lube is nice and warm. And he'll pour some of it on my ass and rub it in with a couple fingers until I'm loose enough to get them in. He always has a hard time finding my sweet spot but fuck, if he doesn't make up for it with the friction."

Scott was gripping the sheets with both hands by this point. Pietro's hand was on his thigh, stroking softly. It was hard to tell who was more turned on at this point. 

"How does he fuck you?"

"Hard. Oh, he'll start off slow and sweet and gentle. 'You like that, pretty boy? Is this good for you? You like how I'm fucking you?' But then he'll start to get into it and he'll - Oh... - he'll start fucking me fast and hard. You can hear the bed creaking through the whole house. He'll hand his hands in my hips to get better leverage, or my hair if he's fucking me from behind. He usually fucks me that way.   
"And then when he starts gasping and moaning and- and shaking, he'll start touching my cock. Like, fucking me into his hand. He pulls me into him so he can get deeper. He makes these little tremors when he cums. You can barely hear him over them but he'll be moaning my name like that- breathy kind of post-cum moaning.   
"By then, I'll be so hard and dripping with precum. You know how wet I get."

Oh, God, did he ever. He could feel it already, slick against his skin as Pietro bucked his hips.

"And he's still touching me. Starts biting my ear and that- that spot behind it. Touching my balls."

Pietro could barely get full sentences out. Scott couldn't blame him. He'd seen Lance naked once in the showers after gym. And if he looked that good soft... He might not have liked Lance in any capacity but even he couldn't deny how appealing the V of his hips was and the strength of his thighs were. Nothing like Pietro's but enough to fuck him into the headboard. 

"Does he make you cum?" Scott rasped. 

Pietro moaned and nodded into his shoulder. 

"Is he a better fuck than me?"

Another moan, but he shook his head this time. 

"He likes me too much to be mean." Scott's stomach tightened with something unpleasant. "I like it when you fuck me like you hate me. I think about it at night when I'm alone."

It was Scott's turn to moan. He didn't like Pietro calling him mean but he did like the thought of Pietro lying in this bed when everyone else was asleep, fucking his hand and maybe fingering himself while he thought about Scott. He grabbed Pietro's chin and forced their mouths together. 

He didn't care what time it was, didn't care that he shouldn't have been here in the first place, didn't care that Pietro was dripping wet with precum from describing sex with another man. His arousal was controlling his thoughts now. All he cared about was burying himself inside that tight ass. His cock was throbbing at the thought of spilling into him, the memory of the muscles clenching around him and milking him dry.

He pushed Pietro onto his back. His long legs hung over the side of the bed. Scott shoved his briefs back down and climbed onto him. He grabbed Pietro's wrists with the other and grabbed his cock with the other. 

"Look at you," he whispered, breathless and needy and barely in control of himself, "all wet already. Just from thinking about being fucked. You're so fucking easy. You'll open up for anyone, won't you?"

If Pietro had a response, it was cutting off when Scott pressed his fingers to the spot behind his balls, the one he liked, hard. He gasped, bucking either to get away from it or to get more, Scott couldn't tell. 

"You like that, you little slut? You'll let anyone touch you here, won't you? I bet I could fuck you dry and you dry and you wouldn't even notice the difference. Huh?"

He forced Pietro's cheeks open and pressed his fingers to the twitching hole they found, but he didn't press. 

Pietro twisted his hips away. 

"Don't," he gasped. 

Scott wouldn't. But fuck if it wasn't tempting to split him open and make him cry. That was a fantasy for later. 

"You'd like it, wouldn't you?" he asked, accusing, as he moved his hand back to stroke his balls. "I could do anything I wanted to you, put anything I wanted up your loose ass, and you'd beg me for more."

It was hard to read his expression in the dark but he was gasping and spreading his thighs apart for him. 

Scott licked his lips. His arousal was nowhere near as wet as Pietro's, though it was just as hard. He wasn't sure he could hold out much longer. He needed some kind of friction against his cock. 

"You could be stuffed full of cocks and you wouldn't be satisfied, would you? Two, three, stretching you until it hurt. But you'd still want more. You're such a little cock slut."

He didn't know where these words were coming from. A porn video, probably, some leather-clad man hissing it to a pretty twink who was tied up and gagged and- Oh, fuck...

"Fuck me," Pietro moaned. "I need it."

Scott grabbed Pietro's hair with the hand that wasn't still holding his wrists. 

"Are you going to scream?" he asked. "If I fuck you, are you going to wake up the whole house? Do I need to gag you?"

Pietro's cock twitched against Scott's thigh and he nodded. He leaned back and almost asked if he had a gag when a shadow on the floor caught his attention. He bent down, grabbing his briefs off the floor, and pulled Pietro's head back. 

"Open up. That's a good boy."

Pietro made no protest as the cotton was stuffed into his mouth. It didn't give Scott the view of his mouth that he wanted, but it was somehow better. It was degrading in a way a normal gag never would be. He wondered... 

Pietro's shirt was in reach, a tight little thing that outlined the frame of his muscles. God, he was so vain... 

Scott tied his hands together above his head. He squeezed Pietro's balls, just on the wrong side of painful. Pietro winced and whimpered around Scott's briefs. He was such a fucking sight. 

"Keep your hands there," he ordered. 

Pietro nodded obediently. 

The lube and box of condoms was still on the bedside table. He remembered, too late, what Pietro said about Lance making sure the lube was warm. The coolness of it made Pietro twitch, just like it always did. Scott massaged it into his skin to make up for it. His fingers rubbed circles against the puckered rim. His muscles twitched, all but pleading to be penetrated. 

Pietro's chest was heaving. His legs moved, trying to find some sort of leverage that he could use to get what he wanted. To get Scott's fingers inside him. 

Scott paused, just long enough to make sure there was no movement in the house, and pushed two fingers into him, not quickly but not exactly slowly either. Pietro screwed his eyes shut and arched up with a muffled cry. His arms tensed and pulled down slightly.

"Hey, remember what I said. Keep them there. That's it. Good boy."

As always, the words made Pietro moan. He had such a praise kink. 

After maybe a minute, Scott started to stretch him. It had only been a few hours but he was already tight as a virgin again. No wonder everyone wanted a piece of him. A third finger, and he hiked Pietro's leg up to get access to his sweet spot. He rubbed the swollen gland on each thrust, earning moans and twists of pretty hips. He tried to add a fourth finger but even with more lube, there was too much resistance. Not even Scott hated Pietro enough to force it. 

He withdrew his fingers and rolled the condom onto himself. More lube dribbled onto Pietro's open hole before Scott spread some onto his cock. He fucked his hand and it was so hard to stop. But the offering in front of him was much, much better than any hand could ever be. 

"Do you want this? Do you want my cock up your tight little ass?"

Pietro nodded. 

"Say it. Tell me you want my cock."

The words were muffled but he could make them out. 

"Please fuck my ass with your cock."

The first press was slow, steady. Maybe the same way Lance did it. He eased Pietro open with the flared head of his cock. There was a wet pop when the widest part slid in. It was more of a stretch than the three fingers but it seemed easier for Pietro to take than the four. 

"That's it," Scott gasped. "That's it, take daddy's cock. Such a good boy, holy shit."

He pulled Pietro's hips closer. The leverage made it easy to pound into Pietro in quick, shallow thrusts. With his legs still pushed up, each thrust rubbed squarely against the spot Scott had long since memorized. Each thrust made Pietro moan and clench around him. He wasn't going to last like this. 

He grabbed Pietro's cock and stroked him, fast and hard and barely pleasant. The heat was creeping down his stomach to the spot where they were connected, where soft skin met hard flesh. 

His hand fisted in Pietro's hair again and forced him to look up at him in the dark. Even in the dim light, his eyes sparkled. He was- Oh, God, he was beautiful. Like something made of porcelain or marble. He should have been in a goddamn museum. The way his chest heaved, the way his hips jerked, the way his cock twitched, it was all art. 

Scott's hands tightened on Pietro's cock and hair. He pressed his face to Pietro's chest mouthed at a dark pink nipple. Each moan reverberated through them. He couldn't take it anymore. The pressure behind his balls was too much and he didn't want to hold back even if he could. He slammed his hips forward in jerky, uneven stutters. The condom became hot and slick and the tightness quickly became too much. He slid out with a shaky breath. 

Pietro was thrusting his hips up in desperation, moaning behind the makeshift gag. Scott wished the camera on his phone wasn't broken. 

"You want to cum, pretty boy?" he drawled, thick with sudden exhausting. 

Pietro nodded, pleading as loudly as he could. Scott almost wanted to leave him like this. But he wasn't that cruel and it would be too easy for Pietro to shut those legs to him forever for it. He crouched down and kissed the place between his balls and swollen hole. He was rewarded with a soft twitch of hips and thighs. A finger replaced Scott's cock and rubbed against his prostate in time with the hand working Pietro's cock. He licked and sucked the spot, even moving down to occasionally lap at the ring of muscle he was fingering. 

It was only seconds before Pietro was writhing. He let out a single scream behind the briefs and clenched tight around Scott's fingers. His cock throbbed, pulsing and twitching as he emptied himself on his chest and stomach. 

Scott rubbed Pietro's thighs, easing him down from his orgasm. When his muscles softened beneath his hands, he crawled up to remove the fabric from Pietro's mouth and wrists. An absent thought floated through his mind, wondering what Lance did after they fucked, and jealousy surged through him. 

"Don't get too comfortable. I'm not done with you. Where do you keep your toys?"

"What, can't get it up again? Ow!"

The sharp slap to Pietro's thigh surprised them both. He motioned to the bedside table. 

"Bottom drawer. Daddy."

Fuck. He was never going to leave here without a erection. 

The light from his cellphone was enough to navigate the perfectly organized drawer. Dildos, vibrators, plugs, all arranged by size. Some of these had to be for practice. There was no way anybody could actually take them. There were other things, too. Gags, clamps, cock rings, even a small cage. Something that seemed shaped perfectly to rub against his prostate. A string of heavy beads about the size of golf balls. A black collar. The leather was soft and worn.

He picked up a bullet vibrator. The remote was separate. Wireless. He imagined turning it on when Pietro least suspected, making it buzz inside him in public. Maybe while he was sitting in class. Something shiny caught his eye. He set the bullet down and picked it up. 

It was a metal plug, heavy enough that Pietro would probably have to clench to keep inside him. But it wasn't the weight that had caught his attention. No, it was the bright blue plastic gem sitting in the end of it. 

God, it was so vain, so Pietro, he almost laughed. 

Scott straightened up. If he hadn't just cum, he would be hard again. 

"Lick your cum," he said as he reached for the lube. 

Pietro's eyes stayed locked in Scott's hands even as he wiped his own cum with his fingers and licked them clean without hesitation. Jesus Christ, what a fucking slut. 

Scott's fingers found Pietro's hole again. Pietro jerked away. 

"It's too much," he whimpered. 

"Still sensitive?" A small nod. "Good."

There was no resistance to his fingers this time. Scott had to cover Pietro's mouth with his free hand to keep him from screaming. Long hands grabbed the sheets, but he made no motion to stop him. On the contrary, he pressed into the fingers, though he jerked again when his sweet spot, still swollen and over-sensitive, was teased. 

Satisfied that Pietro was still wet and loose enough, Scott pulled his fingers out and grabbed the plug. 

"Can you take this, pretty boy?"

Pietro nodded. His eyes squeezed shut as the plug was eased into him. The widest spot was slightly thicker than Scott's cock, maybe the full diameter of his fingers. He was slow, thrusting it slowly despite the temptation to force it in and hear Pietro scream. But the moan was just as satisfying. He closed up around the hilt of the toy, sucking it into his body. The only part that was visible was the glimmering bead. 

"Pretty little slut," Scott mused. "You like that, don't you? Being stuffed with a pretty thing you like this."

He pressed a bruising kiss to Pietro's mouth and pulled back only to wrench his head back with his hair enough to really hurt. His fingers pinched the base of Pietro's already-hardening cock. 

"You are not allowed to cum unless I say you can. And you're not allowed to take this-" He took the end of the plug and twisted it. "- out unless it's to clean yourself for me." He had an image of Pietro lying on the floor of the bathtub, giving himself an enema. Maybe he would press his cheek to the porcelain as he filled himself with fluid. Maybe it would turn him on. "Got it?"

"Yes," Pietro gasped, his mouth full of pleasure. 

"Good boy."

He pressed another kiss to his mouth and stood up. He had to get out of here. Arousal and shame were eating through him. If he stayed, he was going to fuck Pietro again. His briefs, still wet from Pietro's mouth, remained discarded on the floor as he dressed. 

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

Scott wasn't sure it was actually a question. 

"I don't know."

His thoughts flashed to the plug sticking out if Pietro's ass and almost groaned. Who was he kidding? If he managed to stay away for 24 hours, it would be a miracle.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com.


End file.
